Captain Kirk and the Adventure of the Sleepy Spock
by SherlockLives19
Summary: Spock is a little less logical when he's really, really tired. T for language.


**Captain Kirk and the Adventure of the Sleepy Spock**

It was common knowledge, to Jim Kirk, that Spock was far superior to anyone else on the ship.

As Captain, Jim didn't want to play favourites, but it was honest, logical, Spock would say. The Vulcan was stronger in every physical aspect. He had less weakness. His mind worked as quickly as tribbles bred. His only downfall, of course, was that he was lacking in the emotional and social departments (even though he had somehow managed to land the hottest babe in all of Starfleet). But, while he could appear cold and methodical, he was always logical. And logic got them out of situations where sentiment couldn't.

That being _said_.

Logic was for Vulcans. Jim just wanted to have fun.

Hence, shore leave on a nearby Class-M planet.

Jim let himself back into their shared room, sighing heavily as the smell of candles or incense (aka: smelly shit that Jim hated) assailed him.

Spock must have been meditating (aka: being lazy with a 'purpose'), Kirk thought, as he threw his coat down on the sofa and traipsed back to the bedroom that had been designated as Spock's.

He threw the door open unceremoniously. "Spock, I've asked you, open a window-" He stopped short at the scene in front of him.

Spock appeared to be very much asleep.

Amidst candles burning and incense sticks releasing vapours into the room, Spock was curled up on the floor. He was wearing the Starfleet issued sleepwear- although it was only just past 1800 hours- and his hair was in a mussed-up disarray. Maybe he had been tossing and turning on the plush carpeted floor or maybe meditation hadn't been going well and had frustrated him. Jim couldn't tell, but it was strange to see Spock looking so... _normal_.

One arm was tucked under Spock's head, a makeshift pillow, while the other was splayed out haphazardly, Vulcan fingers curled into the plush of the carpet. His clothing was rumpled and his breathing was steady and even.

Jim's lips twisted into a smile on their own accord. He had a sudden flashback to his days as a teenager, spending night after night at his friend Johnny's house. They used to torment the hell out of each other.

Kirk briefly entertained the question of whether or not the warm water prank worked on sleeping Vulcans.

Less embarrassing (for Spock) (and less gross) situations would require either a permanent marker or a can of shaving cream, both of which Jim was sure he could dredge up at 1800 hours. He made no move, however, to get warm water, permanent marker, or shaving cream.

He would tell himself later that it was because he knew that Spock could knock his head off if he tried any of those pranks on the sleeping alien.

In reality, it was because Jim wasn't blind to those dark semi-circles under Spock's eyes, the lack of frown lines in the Vulcan's face, the evaporation of the tension that his first officer always held. Jim didn't have the heart to wake him rudely... but still, he would say it was because he feared for his own life.

Instead, he extinguished the candles and set the incense in Spock's bathroom before letting the door shut tightly behind him. He then crouched next to the sleeping Vulcan, reaching out hesitantly.

"Spock...? Spock, wake up."

The words didn't bother Spock at all, but it only took a gentle touch on the shoulder for the Vulcan to jerk awake. Jim leaned away out of instinct and held up his hands in mock-surrender.

"It's just me."

Spock stared at him with tired brown eyes, seeming to search for something that was just out of his grasp. Slowly, very, _very_ slowly, it seemed to come to the Vulcan and Spock snapped into a sitting position, his hands moving to fix his hair, straighten his uniform, and push himself to his feet at the same time. By design, he accomplished very little.

"What time is it?" Spock mumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

"1810," Kirk replied.

Spock cleared his throat slightly, a faint tinge of green appearing on his cheeks. "It is still the same day?"

Jim cracked a smile. "The same day that it was when I went out this morning, telling you not to burn the house down."

Spock stared blankly at him for a moment before looking around.

Jim assumed that he was looking for the meditation crap and answered the unspoken question. "Incense in the bathroom, candles have been extinguished." He paused, before adding seriously. "When was the last time you slept?"

Spock pushed himself to his feet, swaying on the spot. Kirk immediately stood and gripped his forearm loosely, hoping that Spock didn't choose now to collapse; Bones was nowhere around, not to mention half-blind drunk (they'd been at the bar).

"I've been busy with star mapping," Spock murmured, sinking gratefully onto the edge of the bed once Kirk had helped him there.

"That wasn't my question, Spock."

"Maybe... five days ago." It sounded like more a question than a statement and the fact that Spock said _five days_ instead of _120 hours_ reaffirmed what Jim already knew: Spock desperately needed some sleep. (Besides, he had said _I've_, and not _I have_.)

"Damn. Five _days_."

"Vulcans can go up to two weeks without sleep," Spock murmured, but his eyelids stayed closed just a half second too long in the blink that followed.

"Yeah, and how long can a half-human, half-Vulcan go?" Jim muttered.

"I have stayed awake for a little over a week before," Spock replied. "Sleep often evades me and I find the action to be a complete..." he trailed off, yawning widely. He only managed to hide half of it under his hand. "... waste of time," he finished.

"It was a rhetorical question, Spock, but hell." Kirk couldn't fathom it. He loved sleep and he so rarely got a full night's rest while he was on the starship. "Go back to sleep."

Spock mumbled something that was lost in his exhaustion. Jim turned for the bathroom, intent on opening a window while the incense smell lingered. By the time that he returned to the bedroom not thirty seconds later, Spock had fallen back on top of the comforter and was snoring almost silently.

Jim didn't know whether to laugh, roll his eyes, or sigh. He chose not to do any of those choices. Instead, he muttered _"Lights, off"_ and left the room, closing the door silently behind him.

He realized that he should have recorded the Vulcan or something. This was the one time that he had caught him with his defenses down.

Well... yeah. He probably would have gotten his head knocked off for that, too.

(That was his excuse.)

* * *

**Sleepy Spock. Another story that I wrote awhile ago and just decided to post :p**

**I do now own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


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